


The Memory of All That

by MickyRC



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 'cause it's me, 5+1 Things, Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), barely, but like, or they really really try to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: “Oh well.  We had a little adventure, anyway.”Crowley pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “We’ll try another time, angel.  You’ll get your picnic eventually.”orFive times Aziraphale and Crowley tried to go on a picnic, and one time they actually managed it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 116
Collections: Happy Birthday moveslikebucky!





	The Memory of All That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/gifts).



> I am several days late, but the thing is Bucky deserves presents every day and not just on their birthday, and it took me a little bit to get this one right. I hope you like this little bit of soft nonsense!

They had picked a beautiful day for a picnic. A bit windy, perhaps, but it was the first truly sunny day in a week, and Crowley had immediately stretched himself out on the blanket to bask. Aziraphale watched him from the roadside, where he was pulling a hamper from the backseat of the parked Bentley, and smiled. Crowley looked so content, laid out in a grassy field, sleeveless top baring his shoulders to the sun and a surprisingly elegant wide-brimmed hat keeping the bright light out of his eyes. He turned toward the car and Aziraphale and waved, asking with a gesture whether Aziraphale needed help. Aziraphale waved back and shook his head, closing the car door and making his way back toward his husband.

“What took you so long?” Crowley asked, reaching up to help Aziraphale with the basket when he reached their chosen spot.

Aziraphale waved him off. “Nothing, dear boy,” he said as he settled in next to Crowley, close enough that their hips and shoulders brushed. “You’re just remarkably distracting, even from a distance.”

“Oh?” Crowley’s voice took on a layer of invitation. “Just imagine what I can do up close then.”

Aziraphale grinned at him. “I don’t have to imagine,” he said. “I’ve got you right here.” And to prove his point, he leaned in for a soft kiss.

Crowley’s hand came up to trace across the back of his neck even as Aziraphale pulled away. “Careful, angel,” he murmured. “We’ve got this lovely picnic all set up, and if you keep acting like that we’ll both be too distracted for it.”

“Hmm. I think I’m alright with that, actually.”

Crowley laughed, high and bright, and pulled him in for another kiss. Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his waist to tug him closer, and Crowley’s other hand came up to his cheek, and likely they would have stayed like that until the sun started to go down if a sudden gust of wind hadn’t come through and ripped the hat right off Crowley’s head.

Crowley yelped and grabbed for it, but it was already tumbling it’s way to the far end of the field. He scrambled to his feet and promptly tripped over Aziraphale’s legs as he went to run after it.

“Darling, wait—Crowley!” Aziraphale called as his husband righted himself and started sprinting across the grass. The hat had caught on a particularly stubborn breeze and was rapidly approaching the sparse woods bordering the field; Crowley wasn’t going to catch it before it ended up in a tree, at this rate, and at that point they’d need to miracle it down anyway. But Crowley kept running, and when he turned back to shout for Aziraphale to follow he was laughing, so the angel got to his feet with a sigh and started after his husband.

The hat did, in fact, end up in a tree, and they did end up needing a miracle to retrieve it, but not before Crowley had goaded Aziraphale into attempting to climb for it and they both ended up in a pile laughing on the ground. By the time they returned to the field, the wind had come through again, and they found their picnic hamper knocked over on the grass and the blanket nowhere to be found.

“Oh well,” Aziraphale sighed as they packed the remains of their picnic back into the Bentley. “We had a little adventure, anyway.”

Crowley pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll try another time, angel. You’ll get your picnic eventually.”

And with another quick kiss and a near miss at losing Crowley’s hat again, they climbed into the car and headed home together.

* * *

They had picked a beautiful day for a picnic. The sky was a gorgeous pale blue over the grey of the sea, and the water looked so inviting that Aziraphale had gone to stand with his feet in the surf as soon as they had laid the blanket out.

“Your feet are going to freeze off,” Crowley called from behind him. The water was cold, true, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. He liked the tingle of the salt water, and the way sand swirled under his toes every time a wave pulled back into the ocean. His husband, however, was much more interested in sitting on the beach than getting in the water, and he never failed to make that clear.

“Well then,” Aziraphale said, turning to grin at his husband standing safely on dry land. “If my feet freeze off, I suppose you’ll just have to carry me home.”

Crowley made a show of considering that. “...mmm, no,” he said. “That seems backwards.”

“Oh does it?”

“Yeah, well, look at me! Skin and bone over here, might not even make it back myself. Might just need a big strong angel to carry  _ me _ home.”

Aziraphale smiled and started splashing through the waves back towards him. “Well in that case, I’d better make sure I still have my feet, hadn’t I?”

“You better. And y’know, now I think about it… well, now that I’ve been promised a lift, I think I’m inclined to make sure I’ll need it.”

“Oh, of course,” Aziraphale said seriously.

“And we  _ did _ say we wanted to explore more of the beach.”

“We did indeed.”

“So…” Crowley held out his hand, and Aziraphale laced their fingers together with a kiss to the back of his hand. “Come for a walk with me?”

A swell of warmth rose up in Aziraphale’s chest. They’d come so far. There wasn’t a hint of worry or unease on Crowley’s face; just love and joy and trust that Aziraphale wasn’t going anywhere. That they were really, truly together now.

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand and hoped it passed on half of the happiness he was feeling. “Anywhere, my love,” he said, and they started down the beach, hand in hand.

The beach went on for a long while before they neared the more popular area closer to town, and once the crowds got a bit hectic they turned back the way they’d come. But they were strolling, taking their time, stopping every so often to point out an especially weird cloud formation or for Aziraphale to teasingly yank Crowley toward the water and then cuddle him on the sand to apologize for getting him wet. They weren’t in any rush except the one that came from being in love, so the sun was drifting solidly toward setting by the time they arrived back at their original patch of beach.

They both stopped in their tracks when they reached the familiar stretch of sand. There was the hill, the unguarded beach sign, the path up to the road. But there was no blanket or picnic basket to be seen.

Crowley turned in a choppy circle, clearly confused. “This was our spot, right?”

“It must be,” Aziraphale agreed.

“Then… oh, Satan below, you’re kidding me.” Crowley dug a frustrated hand through his hair and pointed at the water a few yards away.

“What… ah.” Aziraphale spotted it a moment later: a soaked tartan blanket lodged in the sand under the shallow waves. “Tide’s come in.”

“Yup.”

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Yup.”

“I suppose the hamper’s ruined by now.”

“Yup.”

Aziraphale sighed and dragged the remains of their picnic blanket out of the water. “Oh, well,” he said, snapping the blanket whole and dry and taking Crowley’s hand again. “It was a lovely walk, anyway. Next time, perhaps.”

Crowley smiled. “Next time,” he promised. After all, they had a whole lot of next times to go.

* * *

They had picked a beautiful day for a picnic, and all of London agreed on that. By the time they’d swung by the bookshop to check on things and pick up a few books for the cottage, every park in the city was covered over with blankets and lawn chairs.

Except, of course, a lovely shaded spot in Saint James that opened up the very moment an antique black car pulled up to the curb.

“You know, darling,” Aziraphale mused as Crowley shuffled around in the back. “I think we might have picked a rather busy day for this.”

“Eh, ‘s fine, angel,” Crowley called. He heaved a large box onto the floor to reach behind it and groaned. “Fucksake, Aziraphale, are there any books  _ left _ in the shop?”

“Of course there are,” Aziraphale sniffed. “I can hardly fit everything in the spare bedroom.”

“Making a right go of it, though,” Crowley muttered, and finally hauled the picnic hamper out of the car. “Heaven, angel, no wonder you can pick me up like I'm nothing, those books are  _ heavy.” _

Aziraphale winced. “Sorry, darling. I’ll handle them when we get home.”

“You’re gonna have to, I think my arms have turned into jelly.” He rubbed his bicep to make his point, then slipped his free hand into Aziraphale’s. “You know, I wouldn’t object to you handling  _ me _ when we get home, too.”

“Noted. I think we’d better leave that for later, though, dearest, or we’re liable to have another incident.”

“What, like last month at the Ritz when—”

“With the  _ picnic. _ Honestly, Crowley, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Crowley’s grin was toothy and impish. “Demon,” he reminded his husband.

Aziraphale smiled lovingly. “Sweetheart,” he countered, and left Crowley sputtering on the walking path while he went to lay the blanket down on their spot.

It wasn’t until Crowley had gotten himself back in working order and weaved through the crowd swarming the park that they realized their problem. Crowley set the picnic hamper down to help Aziraphale with the blanket, snarking all the while, but when the angel picked it up again to move it closer, he suddenly stopped.

“Darling…” he said, staring at the basket in his hand. “You didn’t… happen to check the basket before we left, did you?”

Crowley looked up from the blade of grass he’d been turning into the world’s loudest thumb whistle. “...no?” he answered, concern on his face. “Why? I thought you were gonna put it together this morning.”

“Hmm. Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat and gingerly set the basket down. “I… think I may have been a bit distracted this morning.”

Crowley stared at him. Then he stared at the basket. Then he collapsed onto the blanket laughing hard enough to scare a squirrel out of the tree above them.

Aziraphale huffed.  _ “Crowley,” _ he complained. “It’s not  _ that _ funny, don’t make a scene.”

“You—you actually…” Crowley worked out between guffaws. “You  _ forgot _ the  _ food?” _

“I was distracted!” Aziraphale cried, more than a bit of a whine in his voice. “I was thinking about what books to bring home, and checking which ones we already had, and then it was time to go and I was  _ rushed.” _

“You forgot the food for our picnic!”

Aziraphale tsked emphatically at him, which just sent the demon into another round of hysterics. With a sigh, Aziraphale flopped down on his back as well to pout up at the clouds. Still shaking with laughter, Crowley scooched over to put his arms around him, and after a moment Aziraphale relented and let himself be cuddled. “We’re not very good at this, are we?”

“Don’t seem to be,” Crowley replied. “We’ll get it next time.”

“I hope so.”

Crowley sat up. “Hey,” he said, tapping Aziraphale’s nose playfully. “No pouting. It’s fucking gorgeous out today, we’re gonna enjoy it.” Despite his best efforts to stay frowning, Aziraphale felt his cheeks twitch. Crowley grinned down at him. “And I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

“Oh! Would you?”

Still grinning, Crowley leaned down to smack a kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. “Anything for you, angel. Even if you did ruin our picnic.”

He was still laughing as he was chased off the blanket.

* * *

They had picked a beautiful day for a picnic. Sitting by the back door of the cottage was a fully packed hamper and a neatly folded blanket, just waiting to be brought out into the back garden for a lovely morning in the sun. The sky was clear, the birds were singing, the flower beds had never looked more vibrant; it was absolutely perfect for sprawling out on the ground and enjoying nice food and lovely company and the wonder of a summer day.

Unfortunately, all of that would require getting out of bed.

“We really should get up,” Crowley muttered halfheartedly from where his head rested on Aziraphale’s chest.

Aziraphale groaned. “But it’s so  _ warm _ here.”

“Warm in the sun, too.” Crowley immediately negated his argument by shifting his arms tighter around Aziraphale’s waist and nuzzling into his bare chest. “Beautiful day out.”

“That’s true…” Aziraphale resumed petting his husband’s hair while he considered that. “Softer here than on the ground, though.”

“Good point,” Crowley conceded, “but also: picnic.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Alright, yes. Picnic.” They lay there for another long moment before Aziraphale heaved another sigh. “Right, then. One moment, darling,” he said, and then bodily lifted Crowley off the bed to roll under him and reach the nightstand on the far side of the bed. Crowley yelped and flailed as he flopped onto his back, gaping up at the ceiling with unusually wide eyes. Aziraphale looked at him with concern. “Are you alright?”

Crowley replied with what could charitably be called a whimper.

“Dearest?”

“Ngk,” Crowley managed. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

They’d been married too long for Aziraphale to miss the squeak in Crowley’s voice and know what it meant. “You know, if you’d like to—”

“Angel…” Crowley warned.

“I have no objection to—”

“Picnic! Picnic, angel, we’re supposed to have a picnic!”

Aziraphale settled on his side next to his husband and put on his best sensible face. “Well we weren’t exactly scrambling out of bed before, either,” he reasoned. “And as long as we’re here…”

Crowley hesitated. Aziraphale gave him a pout. “Could always go out later, I suppose,” the demon said quickly, and Aziraphale grinned.

“My thoughts exactly, darling.”

“One condition.” Crowley held up a hand before Aziraphale could start wiggling out of his pajama bottoms.

“What’s that, love?”

Crowley was eyeing his bare arms. “You have to flip me over like that again,” he said, and Aziraphale laughed and agreed without a second thought.

* * *

They had picked a beautiful day for a—

“Angel, I’m  _ sorry!” _

The Bentley’s passenger side door slammed, and Crowley rushed to climb in on his own side. “Angel—”

“Just start the car, Crowley,” Aziraphale said shortly, not looking at him. He’d dried his clothes, but his hair was still damp and slicked to his forehead. The woods outside of town had seemed like the perfect secluded spot for a picnic. Quiet little clearing with a cheerfully babbling stream running through and the sun shining through the leaves overhead, what could be nicer? Nothing. Nothing at all, until Crowley misjudged how close Aziraphale was to the creek and teasingly knocked him over. The water hadn’t looked that deep. It also hadn’t seemed like such a long walk from the car.

“I’m sorry, angel, angel _ I didn’t mean it,” _ Crowley pleaded even as he put the Bentley in gear. “It was an accident, I promise.”

Aziraphale sighed and finally slumped down in his seat. “I know, darling,” he said quietly. “I’m just… I’m cold, and damp, and a bit put out. I’m not angry with you, really.”

Crowley’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “Can I do anything?” he asked, pulling onto the road and turning them towards the cottage.

Aziraphale considered. “A hot bath when we get home sounds lovely.”

“Done. You got it.”

Aziraphale hummed, a little bit of a smile back on his face. Then suddenly he smacked his leg and tisked at himself. “Oh, I’ve absolutely ruined our picnic, haven’t I? And after you found such a perfect spot.”

“Don’t worry about it, angel.”

“No, I… I should have just dried off and kept going. I didn’t need to make such a fuss.”

Crowley shrugged, and tentatively placed his hand on the seat between them. Aziraphale took it without a moment’s hesitation, and the last of the tension in Crowley’s body fled. “It’s okay, dove,” he said, running his thumb over Aziraphale’s knuckles. “Accident on both sides, yeah?”

Aziraphale looked at him and smiled a little more securely. “Yeah,” he agreed.

Crowley let himself grin as he looked back at the road. “You know I mean it when I say I love you always,” he said. “Even when you are making a fuss.”

“Oh, well that’s good to know.”

“Although all the fuss about having a picnic doesn’t seem to be working out too well.”

Crowley laughed when Aziraphale lightly smacked his arm. “Next time,” he said firmly. “Next time, we’re going to pull it off.”

“You bet, angel,” Crowley promised as they pulled up to the cottage. “You bet.”

* * *

They had picked a beautiful day for a picnic.

“This was a lovely idea, my dear.”

“I’m glad, angel.”

Aziraphale reached forward to take another biscuit from the plate next to the blanket, then leaned back against Crowley’s shoulder again. An arm wrapped around his waist and a hand laced with his, he couldn’t think of a time he’d been more content and comfortable.

“You know what I think?” Crowley’s voice was warm and soft and close enough for Aziraphale to feel in his chest. “I think all those times we screwed up just mean we can enjoy this more.”

Aziraphale hummed consideringly and settled himself better against the bookshelf at their backs. The living room of the cottage was dimly lit, just the one table lamp providing enough light to see the room and each other and the remains of their picnic scattered around them on the floor. A flash of lightning brightened the night sky through the window, and they waited with bated breath for the distant rumble that followed it. Rain pattered steadily on the roof above them. A gust of wind made the walls shift and groan, but Aziraphale only cuddled closer to his husband and summoned a second blanket to spread over their laps.

“I think you’re right,” he said softly. “All that just makes this better.”

Crowley shifted to lean his head on top of his angel’s. “So you’re happy with your picnic?”

“More than.” Aziraphale turned and pressed a tender kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “How could I not be happy, with you here?”

The storm raged on outside, all flashing light and pounding rain, while inside the little cottage by the sea, all was warmth and softness. The pair stayed curled up there on the floor, and woke up the next morning still in each other’s arms. As they had every morning since they had first moved in. As they would every morning after.

**Author's Note:**

> The title (and some very loose inspiration) came from the Gershwin song "They Can't Take That Away From Me," which, if that's not the husbands, I dunno what is.
> 
> You can come yell with me on tumblr [over here](https://one-with-the-floor.tumblr.com/) if ya want!


End file.
